strawberry blond ᡣ𐭩 challengers. [ on hold ]

seven - good luck, babe.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.˚

[ 2019 ]

"what's your angle?" were the words spoken to phoebe as she sipped on her late night coffee. phoebe was once again sat in the lobby of the hotel, this time tucked away in a corner with her usual coffee order and a book. she hoped to avoid another run in with arthur donaldson, which was ironic as she looked up from her book and was met with a scrutinizing glare from his wife. phoebe snapped her book shut with a sarcastic smile as she looked at tashi.

"hi tashi, i'm doing great. thank you for asking. what's this you ask? it's a salted caramel latte," phoebe mocked, sarcastic smile still present.

"cut the shit. what the fuck are you doing here?" tashi asked, crossing her arms and increasing the intensity of her glare.

"this is a tennis competition. i am a professional tennis player. i think you can fill in the blanks," phoebe responded, feigning confusion before returning back to her coffee.

"you are on of the most anticipated athlete in this year's wta tour, so excuse me if i find it hard to believe that you're just here to play tennis."

"opposed to what else, tashi?" phoebe asked, dully. she re-opened her book, thumbing the edge of the pages as she searched for the page she left off. tashi scoffed at phoebe's disinterest.

"you're fucking with his confidence," tashi accused, earning an annoyed scoff from phoebe. "you're so stuck in the past that you'd go as far as to mess with his confidence. you know how he gets, so why the hell would you go and say that during your press?"

phoebe wanted to scoff when she looked back at tashi. nothing was truly amusing, she just could not believe what she was hearing. she does find slight humor in how worked up her mere presence has gotten the donaldsons. then the anger settled beside her humor and she sobered up.

"i didn't know that arthur donaldson's feelings were my responsibility. if he cares so much about what i think, maybe it'll motivate him. and besides," phoebe finally opened to the right page before looking at tashi once again. "i don't need to fuck with his confidence. you do that enough."

phoebe occupied herself with her book once more, ignoring tashi's looming presence. she could feel the sweltering anger radiating from tashi. she knew that she had struck a nerve, one that she only assumed existed.

the first night of the challenger, phoebe somehow found herself watching art's highlights, analyzing everything about the aged art donaldson. during one set, he could be seen looking over to tashi after hitting the net with his serve. the camera then panned to tashi, who sat still in her seat, face flat in disappointment. phoebe scoffed a laugh before closing the video and going back to her previous task. it was clear that art depended on tashi for reassurance, yet it was clearer that tashi wouldn't give him any false sense of achievement.

"you're so full of shit, phoebe," tashi gritted. "this about art ending up with me. you're still mad about art and i getting married; that i, tashi duncan, have something you want."

phoebe's brow twitched in anger as she stood from her seated position, causing tashi to take a few steps back. phoebe's eyes grew cold as she crossed her arms and looked at tashi.

"actually, you're tashi donaldson, art donaldson's wife and coach. but i'm phoebe fucking russell, one of the most anticipated wta competitor this year. i'm also the most notable woman associated with your husband. who really has what the other wants?" phoebe snapped.